Belize's Blue Economy

The flats of Cayo Rosario. Photo: Jess McGlothlin

Unwise coastal development in Belize threatens the multi-million-dollar flats fishery and is at odds with what would be a truly blue economy.

BY MONTE BURKE

In 2005, the actor, Leonardo DiCaprio, made a splash when he and a partner purchased an uninhabited, 104-acre island in Belize for $1.75 million. The island, known as Blackadore Caye, sits to the west of Ambergris Caye. It is one of many privately-owned islands—most of them grandfathered in—within the Hol Chan Marine Reserve, the 4,500-acre expanse of flats and reefs that was set aside beginning in 1987 to protect the fishery and the habitat. In 2015, DiCaprio—who has become well known for his conservation work through his eponymous foundation and his board seats at both the World Wildlife Fund and the Natural Resources Defense Council—told The New York Times that his plan for Blackdore was to “help heal the island.” That healing would take place, he said, when he built a high-end resort on it that would include structures on stilts and piers built over the water—water that happened to be on the public and very productive flats of Hol Chan.

The Belizean government swiftly approved permits for the DiCaprio group’s plans, over the concerns of several environmental and flats fishing guide groups, including Bonefish & Tarpon Trust. Some time later, the government announced a town meeting about the proposed development, to be held in an auditorium in San Pedro on Ambergris. Omar Arceo, who has been a flats guide in Belize for 25 years, and Alex Gomez, a thirdgeneration flats guide whose grandfather was among the first guides in Belize, were among those who attended the meeting. (Both Arceo and Gomez are BTT Conservation Captains.) There, the guides and environmentalists raised questions about the hasty permitting process, about the legality of building structures on the flats of Hol Chan and about the damage they would cause to the habitat and fishery. They also asked how the environmental impact assessment completed by the government could possibly determine that the flats around Blackadore—a well-known spot for bonefish and permit—were devoid of any life.

The town meeting happened to be televised, and the tough questions created a commotion, which appeared to make DiCaprio think twice about the development—the project was brought to standstill before anything was built, and remains that way today. It is perhaps the case that DiCaprio didn’t want any negative media attention to damage his good name in the conservation world. Or, perhaps, he came to the realization that the best way to heal a wild island is to leave it be. (Attempts to reach DiCaprio and his representatives were unsuccessful.)

But the fight for the guides and environmental groups in Belize was only just beginning. The permits approving over-water construction alone were troubling. “This was a trickling event,” says Gomez. “If a pipe in your house is leaking, it’s just a couple of drops and is not a big deal today. But in three years time, you have a big problem.”

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In recent years, the idea of a “blue economy” has gained steam among many coastal developing nations. The concept behind it is that a country can maintain the ecological health of its marine and coastal habitat and generate income by taking a sustainable approach to the development of that habitat. At its surface, a blue economy appears to be a possible magic bullet solution, a win for both the country and the greater environment.

A blue economy framework has been implemented, in various forms, by countries all over the world, from Africa to Australia to the Caribbean. Among the nations that have received the most attention for embracing the idea is Belize. The Central American country, with 430,000 inhabitants in an area roughly the size of Massachusetts, is well-known for its natural resources, which include reefs, cays, mangrove forests, rookeries and, of course, flats that teem with bonefish, permit and tarpon.

Belize’s blue economy ostensibly received a huge boost in November 2020, when the opposition People’s United Party (PUP) won the national election over the United Democratic Party (UDP), which had been in power for the previous 12 years. Almost immediately, the new regime created a brand new cabinet post: A minister of the blue economy. The new minister was a man named Andre Perez, who had been elected in 2020 as a representative for an area of Belize that encompasses Ambergris Caye. Since assuming his cabinet post, Perez has appeared at various environmental conferences on behalf of Belize, including the 2021 UN Climate Change Conference, where he declared that his ministry aimed to “steward, conserve and restore our natural resources, notably our forest, wetland and marine ecosystems.”

The new cabinet post only heightened the buzz around Belize’s efforts to demonstrate its commitment to its ecological health. In recent years, the country has attracted big investments from several prominent environmentally-focused, non-governmental organizations, including the Environmental Defense Fund, the U.K.’s Blue Planet Fund and, most notably, the Nature Conservancy which, in late 2021, orchestrated a $364 million deal that would drastically reduce Belize’s sovereign debt in exchange for the country’s commitment to a series of conservation goals. Belizean Prime Minister John Briceño declared that the TNC deal would “help us support the vibrant marine life that reside here, and maintain the rich biodiversity that is crucial for the health of our ecosystem and the planet.”

Construction is underway on the flats around Cayo Rosario.

Dr. Addiel Perez

And yet, despite the positive headlines, the new cabinet post and the infusion of conservation money, there is ample reason to be somewhat skeptical of the Belizean government’s true commitment to conservation and a blue economy. In fact, there are developments underway, and many others being discussed, that are in conflict with the country’s stated conservation goals. It appears that while Belize is touting—and reaping the rewards of— its blue economy with one hand, it is planning for a far different type of economy with the other.

The history of high profile coastal resorts in Belize, especially in recent times, is rife with scandal. In 2017, the developer of a supposed high-end hotel on Lighthouse Reef Atoll known as Puerto Azul was arrested for orchestrating a Ponzi scheme that duped John Travolta and Andrea Bocelli, among others. A year later, developers of a planned resort named Sanctuary Belize were forced to pay $120 million by the U.S. Federal Trade Commission for selling luxury development properties that did not, in fact, exist. Sugar Caye, a development near San Pedro, was, according to Belize’s Channel 5 News, built in a low-lying swamp and adjacent to the city’s sewer system, making it a likely hurricane disaster-in-waiting. And the owners of Grand Belizean Estates on Ambergris were somehow able to purchase their land that was “conservatively worth $4 million for only $350,000 [Belizean dollars]” according to Channel 5.

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Cayo Rosario is a 10-acre island located between Blackadore (to the west) and Ambergris (to the east). Rosario is within Hol Chan and is adjacent to a world-class permit flat. It was also once a well-known rookery for migratory birds until its nests allegedly (and mysteriously) disappeared in 2009.

Rosario was once owned by a man named David Mitchell, a Canadian who is a well-known real estate developer in Belize. In 2015—around the same time DiCaprio announced his plans for his resort on Blackadore—Mitchell sold Rosario to some investors. Included among them was a man named John Turley, who was originally from Colorado and had moved to Belize in 2005 and started a real estate business. He started on the sales side—he was the sales manager for both Sugar Caye and Grand Belizean Estates—but he has since concentrated on development.

Turley purchased Rosario with an eye towards creating “my legacy project…my mark on society after I am gone,” he says. His plans were somewhat similar to DiCaprio’s—a high-end resort hotel with some private residences mostly built on stilts over the water. (He also has property—18 acres—across the water on Ambergris that will be part of the development.) Turley has partnered with Six Senses, a global luxury resort brand, which will handle the design and sell the lots. Six Senses, based in Bangkok, styles itself as “environmentally friendly and socially responsible” on its website, and Turley says, as part of his agreement, he must put aside half-a-percentage of gross revenue for local environmental groups. That Rosario is located in the middle of the Hol Chan Marine Reserve is a big bonus to Turley. “We were grandfathered in,” he says. “It’s like being able to build a resort in the middle of National Forest in the U.S.”

The flats that surround Cayo Rosario are known for permit.

Jess McGlothlin

Turley’s plans, like DiCaprio’s, were met with immediate protests from environmental and fishing groups. Again, the main issue was the over-water structures, which would extend onto the public flats of Hol Chan. “There is nothing we can do about developments on the islands themselves because they are privately owned,” says Alex Gomez. “But it makes no sense to put structures over the water in what is supposedly a protected reserve.” Yet, the proposal for the Rosario development was approved in 2018, under the former government. Turley says his plans are still supported by the new regime and that he has even been assisted by a new initiative within it that fast-tracks development projects. “They help us cut through the red tape and bureaucracy,” he says.

And, unlike Blackadore, some work has already begun on Rosario. There is a palapa on the island that Turley says functions as a residential sales center. Some sea walls have been constructed and there has been some dredging of the flats, though that work was temporarily halted in October 2020 for being illegal. Six Senses says the resort will open in 2025 and that four home lots have already been sold. As for the concerns of the environmental and fishing groups? “Every step of the way, we’ve been cognizant of both groups,” says Turley. “The fishermen told us that the structures would scare away the fish. But we demonstrated that the structures would actually increase the habitat. Fish congregate around the docks.”

This, of course, displays a complete misunderstanding of the gamefish that inhabit the flats of Belize. “Flats species depend upon open-water habitats provided by the coastal mosaic of sand, mud and seagrass flats,” says Dr. Aaron Adams, BTT’s Director of Science and Conservation. He points out that any structures would fragment the flat, which is detrimental to flats species, and that, yes, they would attract species of fish, but only ones that are usually found on coral reefs. “This is akin to installing a rainforest in the middle of the Serengeti—there would, overall, be more species, but to the detriment of the species that depend on the Serengeti,” says Adams.

The health of Belize’s coastal habitats is vitally important to the health of the flats fishery.

Dr. Aaron Adams

Bonefish and permit, of course, do not like docks. And while tarpon sometimes hang around marinas (like Bud N’ Mary’s in Islamorada), it is in an unnatural and domesticated manner. The docks—along with the destruction of the flats habitat and all of the subsequent increased human and boat traffic around the island—will not only impair the flats species, but also the guides who make a living from them and the anglers who travel there to target them. And, as has been demonstrated over and over again, any loss of habitat is devastating and hard to reverse, if possible at all.

And yet, this misinformed stance about the supposed benefit of building structures on the flats in Hol Chan appears to be the official position of the Belizean government as well, as outlined by its environmental impact assessment done for Blackadore. “This is an entirely irresponsible approach that ignores basic ecology in an attempt to excuse bad development practices,” says Adams. One can’t help but wonder if it’s intentional on the part of the government.

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Belize’s marketing of itself as a blue economy has been a financial boon to the country. Nonprofit environmental groups have been among the biggest investors. The U.K. group, Blue Planet Fund, made Belize one of the five countries that received part of a $21 million grant for ocean conservation. And in November 2021, TNC made what is by far the largest conservation investment ever in the country. TNC, with funding from Credit Suisse, has loaned Belize $364 million to cut its sovereign debt nearly in half while generating new cash flows. In exchange, the country has promised to protect 30 percent of its ocean habitat, work on making its fisheries sustainable and protect some of its coastal ecosystems. The deal, says Julie Robinson, TNC’s Belize Program Director, “is the biggest ever in the world in terms of debt reduction for marine conservation.” (TNC has done deals like this before, most notably in the Seychelles in 2016.)

The vast mangrove creeks of Belize are important habitat for juvenile tarpon.

Jess McGlothlin

The idea is for the investment to generate up to $4 million a year that would be placed into a fund to pay for the conservation work. The idea sounds brilliant on paper, and TNC does have 30 years of experience working with the country. But there are reasons to be wary, particularly with an investment of this size. Over the years, the Belizean government, like many governments in the world, has not exactly been a paragon of transparency. In its report on Belize, the U.S. Department of Justice says the government “continues to struggle with corruption, and there is little political will to address the problem.” One fairly recent scandal, the Justice Department notes, involves “allegations that the Ministry of Natural Resources illegally distributed land to [its] supporters.”

Though aware of these concerns and cognizant that “there are always risks,” Robinson says the TNC plan has been well thought out. The conservation fund, she says, will be managed by an independent group, and not the government (this group has not been assembled yet). And penalties have been put in place if Belize defaults on the conservation funds or if the conservation marks are not met. (Ultimately, Robinson says, the U.S. government would get involved if things went totally awry.) “We have a ton of safeguards and feel very confident that this will work as intended,” says Robinson.

It would be quite an environmental victory if it did. But the bigger question remains: What is the intent of the Belizean government when it comes to development? Recent noise suggests that it’s not a sustainable tourism and development model and, thus, not in line with a supposed “blue” focus. “There is a disconnect between what we see the Belizean government pursuing and what would be a true ‘blue economy,’” says Adams.

The permits for Blackadore and Rosario may be just the beginning, that “leak” that Gomez spoke of. The Four Seasons also reportedly now has permission to build over water in Belize. And there are plenty of other private owners of islands in the country who could, in theory, do their own over-water projects. Other “leaks” may be springing up, as well. There has been talk of a new airport on the north end of Ambergris, two new cruise ship ports in the central part of the country and a road that would connect Belize and Mexico and run right through Bacalar Chico National Park and Reserve, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. “It really does look like there’s the pursuit in Belize of the mass tourism model of Cancún,” says Adams.

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We Americans, of course, don’t really have the moral high ground when it comes to mass tourism and coastal development. A quick (or long) drive on U.S. 1 in the Florida Keys allows one to see that the U.S. pursued—and still pursues—the mass tourism model, to the detriment of the natural world.

But there are lessons to be learned from the mistakes made by countries like the U.S. The mass tourism model has been disastrous for any place where it has been implemented, and not just in an ecological sense. In his book, Popular Development, John Broham writes that mass tourism for developing countries means high rates of foreign ownership which “contributes to a loss of control by local businesses” and “often contributes to high rates of leakage of tourism earnings.” (“Leakage” is the money generated in a country that ends up in foreign hands.) In some parts of the Bahamas, for instance, leakage from mass tourism reportedly reaches 85 percent.

According to BTT, the sportfishing industry in Belize generates $56 million a year and supports more than 2,000 jobs. Almost all of that money stays in the country. There are around 150 flats guides in the country, and the profession is among the highestpaid in the country’s private sector. And the flats fishery is catchand-release and low-impact, unlike mass tourism, which is among the most ecologically detrimental industries in the world.

Anglers search for bonefish on flats near San Pedro, Belize.

Josiah Ness / Silverline Films

And yet, instead of trying to enhance the local, sustainable tourism model, the Belizean government seems to be on another path. “I think the government wants big hotels and rooms with air conditioning and fancy food,” says Dr. Addiel Perez, BTT’s Belize- Mexico Program Coordinator. “They are not selling the right concept in Belize. They really just want to increase investment and GDP and develop the country. Their blue economy is not conservation first and then the economy. It’s the other way around.”

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Back before the Belizean elections in 2020, Alex Gomez and other guides staged a protest at Rosario, piloting their boats out to the island. They were surprised and grateful that the man who would be the future minister of the blue economy, Andre Perez—who, at the time, was running for office as a representative—showed up in a boat and joined the protest. “He was telling us all what we wanted to hear,” says Gomez. Andre Perez, of course, won his election and was installed as the minister of the blue economy (and, also, curiously, the minister of civil aviation). And then, says Gomez, “we heard nothing but silence.”

The government of Belize, it appears, is trying to have it both ways—marketing the country as a blue economy and reaping the rewards and good press and money that comes from that while simultaneously planning for initiatives that are in direct opposition to sustainable, ecologically healthy development.

This contradiction is frustrating for the flats guides, the environmental groups and really anyone who cares about the future of our planet. The leaks are now threatening to become a deluge. And yet, the stakeholders in Belize’s healthy ecology have no plans to back down. They will continue to raise awareness, call out the hypocrisy and attempt to embarrass the developers and politicians. “We will keep fighting for the people, for the future generations,” says Arceo. Says Gomez: “My life revolves around the water, and it has done so much for me and my family and my country. The least I can do is to fight for it. I refuse to give up.”

Monte Burke is The New York Times bestselling author of Saban, 4th And Goal and Sowbelly. His new book, Lords of the Fly: Madness, Obsession, and the Hunt for the World-Record Tarpon, is available now. He is a contributing editor at Forbes and Garden & Gun.